Dreamy Places

When I was a girl we lived near railroad tracks, at night I loved the sound of the train whistle blowing; it was such a haunting, lonely sound, and I wondered where it was going. Oh. how I longed to hop on that train and go places., I would sit by the window and imagine I was on the train; the huge diesel locomotive pulling us, I would have dreams of Paris. It was whimsical and fanciful there with the Eiffel Tower, and Notre Dame and the Louvre, then a quick stop in Vienna; home of Mozart and Beethoven, and many others, all these places I visited on a whistling train. And then, we would sway along to Rome with a clung, I wanted to say hello to the Pope- we went to England; and I introduced myself to the Queen, soon, we would be chatting over tea. In my reverie I was not alone, never ever alone, for I had brought along my sweet little Odele; she was a kitten tucked in my pocket, now, off we go on my train . . . to some dreamy places . . . . _________________________________ October 28, 2019 (Re-write from 2015) Poetry/Narrative/Dreamy Places Copyright Protected, ID 19-1191-939-02 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to FTI Blog Series 11 - places Brian Strand Podium Place 1